


Surrender

by Muldvarp_Dronning



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 14:08:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4022752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muldvarp_Dronning/pseuds/Muldvarp_Dronning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set immediately after 1x20 "Nothing Personal"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Surrender

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cicerothewriter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cicerothewriter/gifts).



She could just make him out, sitting in the shadows. He'd been there since he'd watched the video. Seen himself talking about Project TAHITI, though he had no memory of it. He'd let out a quiet 'huh' and stared at the screen for 30 seconds before standing and walking outside. She'd let him go, knowing he needed time alone to process things.

He hadn't moved in three hours. Skye, FitzSimmons and Trip had retired to their rooms longs ago.

Her bare feet didn't make a sound as she walked around the pool and sat herself at the table opposite him.

Normally he'd be the one to come to her. He'd talk. Ask questions he didn't expect to be answered. He'd do enough talking for both of them. 

Only this time she wouldn't know what to say even if she were the talking type. She's more about actions. Words have a way of being twisted, and their meanings misunderstood.

She reached out across the table and took his hand gently in hers. Her thumb drew small circles across his knuckles whilst her eyes held his gaze. He gave a small nod and she entwined their fingers before standing and pulling him up with her. She lead him to their room and quietly shut the door.

Hurried hands made short work of their clothes. Jackets pushed off shoulders; a tie pulled loose and discarded. She unbuttoned his shirt, skimming the backs of her fingers over the exposed skin. His body was familiar, the years hadn't really changed it. Broad at the shoulders, lean at the hips.

Her top was next to be removed. He never took his eyes off hers as he trailed his fingers over the thin cotton of her bra. Hands stroked her back as he undid the clasp, walking his fingers over her shoulders to nudge the straps down her arms.

Pants were quickly pushed over hips and kicked aside.

His hands moved back up her body, touching gently. She shivered as his fingers brushed her nipples. His hands moved to her head, fingers tangling in her hair. His lips touched hers then, almost hesitantly until she linked her arms around his neck.

Need flashed in his eyes and he fisted his hand to draw her head back so he could deepen the kiss. He could feel the heat rising inside of him so he slowed and kissed his way along her neck, nibbling lightly.

He needed her. Needed that part of his heart that he'd given up to survive. 

He remembered what had been between them. So much had changed since then. He needed to trust her again.

He laid her on the bed as he looked into her eyes. He nipped her bottom lip, tugging gently, taking her mouth again with a kind of restrained urgency. Long, deep kisses that sent waves of need through her system.

She arched her back, pressing her breasts against his chest as he nuzzled at her neck. The muscles in her belly quivered. She needed to be touched.

Smooth skin shivered under the pass of his tongue, the scrape of his teeth. The beating of her heart under his lips aroused him as much as her breasts. Hands on his shoulders urged him to take more. He knew her well enough to exploit her wants and weaknesses. With new found patience he teased her, pushed her to the trembling edge, but held back and left her quaking.

Her skin was slick with sweat, and she was hot and wet and ready. He met her eyes, so dark and heavy, pupils wide with lust, as he slid inside her. 

She wrapped herself around him, lifting her hips to meet his as he moved into the old rhythm, the good solid weight of him above her, the play of muscles under her hands, so familiar. Her blunt nails scraped his flesh and had his blood burning so he had to fight a vicious need to hurry.

Pleasure built on top of pleasure. They matched, beat for beat, then thrust for thrust. They were so close. He moved his hand between their bodies, his fingers finding her centre. And then pleasure became desperation. She cried out as her body erupted and he followed her over the edge, his breath tearing out of his lungs as he said her name over and over.

And he knew when she went limp that she'd given him something he hadn't known he'd craved.

Her surrender.


End file.
